


It's Always The End of The World Somewhere

by Astomera



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, No Plot, Wings, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 13:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astomera/pseuds/Astomera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has some questions when he runs into an alternate universe Michael. Gabriel, of course, has something to do with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Always The End of The World Somewhere

“You’re not the archangel Michael,” he accused, his brow furrowed in confusion. His name was Castiel, and he was in Chicago with Dean and Sam Winchester on a hunt. Castiel wore a trench coat similar to the man before him, though his hid no wings. Having sensed a sudden supernatural presence, he instantaneously followed the source and found himself in an alley. They were not too far from the main streets of the city but the area was devoid of activity.

Michael raised his eyebrows. “No?” He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and rocked on his heels, looking every bit as if he enjoyed the questioning.

“Who sent you?” Castiel demanded, his voice low. Michael smiled easily and his voice softened.

“The Lord,” he answered.

“I know of Michael. He is the fiercest warrior in Heaven, fated to twice defeat Lucifer, and his true vessel is a man from Kansas. You are not him.”

“Six thousand, three hundred and sixty battles, Castiel.”

His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head, staring at a place beyond Michael’s shoulder for a moment. “Take off your coat.” Only the few people who knew him well could detect the exasperation in his flat tone. Michael smiled again.

“Really? You want to see my wings?”

Castiel pointedly ignored the question. Michael folded up his knee-length, dark beige overcoat gently, holding it loosely in his arms. He turned around to give him a good view. True to the stereotype, there were two off-white wings that hung from his shoulder blades, reaching from above his back to end at his knees. The plumage looked stiff and unexercised, Castiel noted. He pursed his lips.

Michael looked over his shoulder at him for a moment before spreading his wings wide. He stretched them for half a minute and then snapped them shut again, turning languidly on his heel.

“Your wing span is negligible at best. They can’t support flight and are rarely used. The fact alone that you keep them visible to the human eye is alarming.”

Michael frowned and stepped toward Castiel. “I like them. Where are yours?” Castiel could see Michael’s wings but it was clear that the reverse wasn’t true.

Unknown to Michael, Castiel’s large wings unfurled quickly, and the angel disappeared in the time it would take to blink. Michael turned around to look for him and was met with a long silver dagger to the throat. Pressing the blade against his artery, Castiel backed him up against the side of a brick building. Both wore calm expressions.

“You, Michael, are an abomination,” he rasped. “Your true form is human-like with dove’s wings and little to no discernible Grace, which is absolutely unheard of. You can’t see a true angel’s wings but you claim you are an archangel. Furthermore,” he pressed the blade a little harder against his neck, “you have no sword, cannot fly, and tell me that our Lord sent you.”

“Castiel,” Michael said gently, looking down at the angel, “Where is your faith?” Castiel wanted to scowl but his expression remained passive.

“Where is our Father?” he shot back. His dark wings unfurled once more and reached far on either side of him, over twice the size that the white wings were. It was an act of intimidation that wouldn’t phase anyone who couldn’t see them, but his emotions got the better of him.

“Cas, that’s enough.”

A man stood a few yards to the left of them. His face was blanketed in shadow and huge, dark golden wings swallowed the alleyway.

“Gabriel.” Castiel hesitated but released Michael and stepped back to face his brother. His wings relaxed but didn't fold. Gabriel’s disappeared and he walked to them with a smirk on his lips. Clearly he had seen Castiel’s show and had decided to call his bluff.

“Hey, little bro. I see you’ve met Mike here.”

“Michael,” the warrior corrected. Gabriel winked at him but otherwise didn’t acknowledge his fault.

“Explain this, Gabriel.”

“Weird, huh? Two archangels in the same alley. You don’t see that happen a lot.” Castiel’s lips pursed again. Though he was shortest of the three, Gabriel was by far the most powerful. Michael claimed to be an archangel but Castiel couldn’t detect enough Grace in him to be even a potential threat. He held his tongue and waited for an explanation.

“How are Francis and Dora?” Gabriel asked conversationally, turning to Michael.

“Frank and Dorothy. They’re still together.” He smiled fondly and put his coat back on. “They’ve changed a lot for each other. Thank you for helping me see them again.” He walked up to Gabriel and grasped a hand in both of his own.

“No problemo, Mike!” He grinned before continuing flatly, “Say hi to Dad for me.”

“Will do.” Then, after a snap of Gabriel’s fingers, Michael was gone. Castiel put his short sword back in his coat and stared at his brother until he spoke.

“Right. Judging by the way you almost cut his head off, I’d go so far as to say you’ve never seen Michael.”

“I haven’t met him before now.” Gabriel burst into laughter and slapped a confused Castiel on the back. “I don’t see what is so entertaining.” Calming down some, the archangel grasped Castiel’s shoulder and, with an audible rustle of feathers, flew them to Sam and Dean’s motel room on the edge of the city. They were the only ones there.

“It’s a film made thirteen years ago about Mike and some people here in Chicago. I’ll make you watch it with me sometime.” Gabriel flopped down onto one of the two large beds that suddenly looked as if they belonged in a King’s chambers instead of the shabby motel.

The angel remained standing but eyed the extravagant beds wearily. “He was an illusion.”

“Nope. Alternate universe. I brought him here to explore for a while and was about to zap him back to his own universe’s Heaven when you showed up.” Castiel stayed quiet. “Personally, I like this Michael a lot more than the one we’ve got. He doesn’t want to bring about the end of days. And while I’m all for paradise, I kind of like what I’ve got going on here more.”

“He said our Father sent him,” Castiel muttered, “but it was you.“ Gabriel winked and they heard the sound of a key turning in the door. The Winchesters appeared a moment later, standing in the doorway, surveying the scene with their guns drawn.

“Relax, boys. It’s just us,” Gabriel drawled. Rolling their eyes, they lowered their pistols and walked into the room. Dean headed toward the one of the two beds.

“Gabriel, Cas. What are you doing here?” Sam asked. “Did you get any leads on Lucifer?”

“Nope, Cassie and I were just discussing Michael. The John Travolta one.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Dean, getting comfortable. Sam understood the reference though.

“That was a bad movie.” And after a brief bout of silence, he added, “Jess made me watch it.” Dean gave him a look.

“Have you even seen any movies, Cas?” Gabriel wondered aloud. Castiel nodded.

“I have once, on a television. There was a pizza man and a young woman engaging in…sexual activity.” Gabriel raised his eyebrows.

“Porn! Skipping straight to the good stuff, I see.” He smiled jovially. “Well, this one’s nothing like that, sorry. Sammy, Dean-o--you two up for a movie night?”

Dean bristled. “We’re busy, pal. You know, with the apocalypse?” Gabriel shrugged.

“Suit yourself,” he said and smirked, and flew both him and the angel to a grand theatre in L.A. without further word. Castiel, of course, had no say in the matter. The whims of the trickster apparently took precedence over defeating Lucifer and saving potentially billions of lives.

Dean whined aloud when the lavish beds disappeared immediately and were replaced with the motel’s finest.

“Dean’s right, Gabriel,” Castiel said from his seat in the center of the empty theatre. “There’s no time for this.” A large bag of candy and a soda materialized in his hands. He looked at Gabriel to find him holding gummy bears in one hand and a large bag of popcorn in the other. Setting his sweets and drink down in the cup holes of the chair, he folded his hands neatly in his lap.

“Maybe not,” Gabriel chirped, leaning over and stealing a mouthful of the soda, “but that’s exactly why we’ll make time.” At Castiel’s questioning gaze, he elaborated: “When will we ever get the chance to sit down and enjoy what we have? For all we know, Lucifer‘s going to gank me next week.” His expression darkened. His brother looked over at him with a mix of both worry and calm on his features.

Gabriel leaned back and with a snap of his fingers, the film began to play on the large projection screen before them. Music filled the theatre and both the angel and archangel relaxed in their seats as the opening credits rolled.


End file.
